


I think people like me better (when I'm hurt inside)

by lowkeyashell



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: F/M, Love Confessions, Mentions of Suicide, Pining, does this count as a fix it fic?, its my first fic for this fandom pls be kind
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-06
Updated: 2020-10-06
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:02:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26721076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lowkeyashell/pseuds/lowkeyashell
Summary: (y/n) struggles with adjusting to life back at work after a car crash months earlier, while also dealing with her feelings for Spencer, which she believes to only be one-sided.
Relationships: Spencer Reid/Original Female Character(s)
Kudos: 16





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't really expect this story to go very far, but the last chapter sort of got out of hand and I ended up writing a lot more than I intended to, so the first two chapters might be a little more sloppy and rushed than the third one. Hope you all enjoy it though :)

It had been around five months since the accident - four since I returned to work - and yet Spencer (along with the rest of the team) still seemed to be walking on eggshells anytime I was around, treating me like I was suddenly fragile because of what happened. Or so I thought, anyway. He never let me in, never gave any insight as to what was going on in his head. But it wasn’t as if he’d been particularly talkative with me before the accident, either. In fact, he had always seemed rather eager to ignore me, but somehow this special treatment was far worse - sure, I was getting attention from him, but it felt performative, and he hardly bothered me outside of work, aside from nights out with the team, and even then he stayed away.

Everyone treated me differently, careful not to let me over-exert myself or anything like that, but Spencer was by far the one who hurt me the most, even if he had no idea he was doing so. Something changed that afternoon, but I wasn’t so sure it was a good thing.

\----- five months ago -----

_My ears were ringing violently, and if I hadn't thrown up yet (I hadn't as far as I couldn’t tell, but the world around me was hazy and I wasn’t even sure which way was up), my lunch would surely be coming back up soon._ If I hadn't had that bad shellfish, _I thought to myself, staring through the cracked windshield but not really seeing it,_ I wouldn’t be in this mess. _We_ wouldn't be in this mess.

 _I looked over at the officer in the driver’s seat beside me. I felt awful at the sight of him, his body slumped down in his seat with only the seatbelt preventing him from falling down on top of me._ So the car had rolled onto its side, _I mused._ Shame I wasn’t as lucky as Officer Briggs here. Died on impact, most likely. Oh, how I wish that was me. _But he hadn't deserved this. He’d only offered me a ride back to the station when I realized my lunch wasn’t agreeing with me. It wasn’t his fault that neither of us had seen the other car coming. We weren’t even at fault, really - the other car, now laying in a wreck a few yards out in front of us, ran through a stop sign going far too fast for these old dirt roads. We were simply in the wrong place at the wrong time._

_This may as well kill me. I begged for it to. I couldn’t stand the pain anymore, and longed for the sweet release of unconsciousness._

_My head was throbbing, and I could feel the warm trickle of blood running down the side of my face, dripping into my mouth and down my chin onto the shattered window below me. I didn’t have the energy to try and free myself from the wreckage. It’d be no use anyway - town was still three miles out, and hardly anyone came down this way. It’d be hours before anyone found us._

_But as the ache pounded away at my skull, I found I didn’t quite care. The pain was almost too much to bear, and though my body fought to stay awake, and_ alive _, my mind was telling me to welcome that darkness. Because really, if I died now, I wouldn't be losing much. Sure, the team would be upset, understandably. But they’d move on - something I could never do, especially when the man I loved would hardly ever look me in the eye._

_No, it was better this way. It wasn’t painless, but I’d go out peacefully. At terms with the world, and having accepted that no matter how much hope I thought I’d had, Spencer would just never see me the way I saw him. And so I gave in, closing my eyes and letting that pull of exhaustion take over, slipping into a sort of quiet abyss that made the world feel fainter and fainter with each passing second._

* * *

And then I had woken up in the hospital - clad in the tacky white and blue gown that no one else in the room seemed to be wearing - bombarded by too-bright fluorescents above me, distracted by the chattering of doctors in the hall, and confused at the sight of Spencer sleeping in an uncomfortable-looking chair across the room. I had watched him for a while, but when he finally woke and saw that I had regained consciousness, he promptly bolted out of the room. One of the doctors came by soon after, but Spencer hadn't returned. Things were different, after that.

I questioned Emily about it a few times, after I'd been released from the hospital, but she just spewed some nonsense about the whole team being careful around me, keeping me in check and making sure I was alright every other minute. Even now, five months later, she still insisted that things weren't as different as I was making them out to be.

“Emily, you can’t be serious. Surely you’ve noticed the differences too.”

“We’re all acting different around you, (y/n), you were in a _car accident_.”

“Yeah, five months ago! Come on, you really can’t see how he’s been treating me?” I asked, exasperated. “Before the accident, he just ignored me, and I was fine with that. But now I’m getting _attention_ , which I wouldn't normally complain about, but all he ever does is ask me how I am, if I need anything, do I need a break? _All the damn time,_ Emily.”

“And that’s a bad thing?” The look on her face told me she knew more than I was letting on, but I knew she’d never say anything to Spencer about it. I trusted her, but still not enough to spill all the secrets about how I really felt. I didn’t have to, though. She gleaned it all right out of my head just by looking at me.

“Listen, it was nice at first because he seemed genuine, but it’s been four months since I came back, and he still treats me like I’m weak, or some kind of charity case. I don’t need the help anymore, and each time I tell him that, he brushes me off like he was never concerned in the first place.”

“I think you’re overthinking things, alright? Take a day off and rest if you need it, you seem stressed.”

“Oh come on, Em, really. I’m fine, okay? Besides, Hotch looks like he’s about to call us in for a meeting any minute, and if we have a case, he won’t let me take a day just because I’m stressed.” She looked at me with a concerned expression that seemed almost pained. “I’ll be alright,” I added on.

“If you say so.”

She didn’t sound convinced.


	2. Chapter 2

Things  _ had _ changed after the accident, but it wasn’t just the way people treated me. I spent almost a month cooped up in my apartment with nothing to do while the rest of the team continued on with work like nothing happened.  _ Stupid Hotch and his stupid “mandated recovery time”. Even though I knew he meant well.  _ I had felt fine after a week or two, though my head continued to ache at all hours of the day. Looking back, he was clearly right to order me to stay home and rest, but at the time it had felt like I’d been shoved to the sidelines while everyone else went on without me, all because of a stupid car accident. It hadn't even been that bad, in the end - a mild concussion, some fractured ribs and a hell of a lot of bruising; but Hotch didn’t want me working, even after I begged him to at least chain me to a desk job while I recovered, if it meant being able to get out of my stuffy apartment and back to work. He wasn’t too keen on the idea.

But the time spent at home, and the worried glances I got when I returned to work weren’t the only things out of place after that. I felt so isolated, practically trapped in my apartment with nothing to keep me occupied but the endless stream of media I’d consumed each day, watching movie after movie, and reading every book in my apartment twice, just to fill the time. I felt disconnected from myself, no longer able to recognize the person in the mirror - who had looked horrible, by the way - gaunt and looking like she’d lost a fight with a brick wall, with the way the dark bruises encroached upon the otherwise unmarred skin. I’d looked like a different person, far too pale and sickly, my body littered with all kinds of scars and bruising. I’d heal, eventually, but I needed to find common ground with the person staring back at me in the mirror, and I figured the only way to do that was to drastically change something about my appearance.

A little under a month later, I returned to work with my hair chopped off at my shoulders, and, much to Penelope’s delight, bright pink. Everyone had congratulated me on being back, joking around and soon falling back into that same comfortable rhythm, and it felt like I’d never left. But Spencer, from whom I expected maybe a curt nod or handshake just for the sake of professionalism, gave me an honest to god compliment, looking away from me when my eyes fell on him, muttering something that sounded along the lines of  _ “-it looks nice” _ . And so began the odd rift between us, far more awkward than when he was just ignoring me outright, but I couldn’t deny that I rather enjoyed hearing him ask how I was, even if it did annoy the hell out of me. It meant that we were on speaking terms, and there was perhaps the possibility of friendship somewhere along the line.

The color in my hair faded over time, but Spencer’s supposed kindness didn’t.

* * *

The jet shook violently as it hit a spot of turbulence, and I inwardly groaned as my head bounced against the cushioned seat beneath it as I desperately tried to fall asleep. What I wouldn't give to be back in my apartment now, but we were still an hour out from Quantico. 3am was not an ideal time to be returning from a case, but Hotch had been adamant that we wouldn't make it back too late. Apparently “too late” in his opinion wasn’t something that actually existed. Hopefully he’d call us in later than usual for work today, and I’d be able to get at least a few hours of sleep once I was home. The cabin was silent, aside from the sound that accompanied the turbulence - Rossi and Hotch were sat together at the opposite end, engrossed in a book and typing up a report on his computer, respectively. Morgan was out cold in the seat behind them, and Emily and JJ were busy playing a game of scrabble that they were struggling to keep straight among the jet’s shaking. Reid was the only member of the team unaccounted for, though I hadn't seen him since we boarded. Most likely reading like Rossi, or asleep in one of the seats somewhere behind mine. Either way, he was out of sight, but not out of mind.

He’d been on my mind a lot, lately. I was afraid that whatever was happening between us, this pseudo-friendship that wasn’t really cemented yet, was hurtling towards ruin. It made sense that once I finally gave in to his nagging and stopped complaining about it, he would go back to practically ignoring me altogether. There was nothing between us in the first place, even if what was there could be considered friendship, or anything more than workplace kindness. But I was afraid to lose it, still. I stared out the window, at the city down below, bathed in an ethereal sort of glow from billboards and headlights. Somehow things looked prettier from above, when you weren’t attached to the earth and could see things neatly laid out in front of you like a map, instead of the twisting streets and gruesome details of everyday city life that you could see from the ground.

How I wished I had that same mindset when it came to my own problems. If I had known better, and taken the time to take a step back and view things from an outside perspective, maybe things wouldn't have been so difficult to understand. I still didn’t know  _ why _ Spencer had always been so cold towards me, and I was afraid that I had unknowingly done something to cause it. I rolled away from the window, back onto my side to try sleeping again, but when I saw Spencer standing there awkwardly in front of me, my heart skipped a beat.

“Jesus, Spence, you scared the hell out of me.” I said, sitting up straight in my seat so I could talk to him better. “What's up?”

“Can I sit?”

I nodded, scooting over for him despite my anxiety screaming at me in the back of my head - he made me nervous whenever he was around, and especially now, my feelings for him did nothing to make the lump in my throat any more bearable.

“How’ve you been?”

“I’m alright,” I responded cautiously. He hadn't actually sat down to have a conversation with me in a couple weeks, and I feared whatever prompted this one might not be a good thing. “Why?”

“You seemed bothered by this case, in particular. What’s upsetting you?”

“It’s just…” I didn’t know how to begin. Here I was, talking to Spencer normally for the first time in weeks, and despite the fact that he was still only asking me how I was, this time felt more genuine. Like there was real concern behind his words, and it made me let down my guard. I felt… strangely comfortable, confiding in him, and to be truthful, it scared me a little.

“Cases like this, with how young all of the victims were… They just really get to me. Reminds me too much of my sister, and how I couldn’t save her.”

“I didn’t know you had a sister.”

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Spence. It’s not like we sit down and talk like this very often.”

He ignored the sting and anger in my words that I knew he’d heard, though I didn’t mean for it to come out that way, and asked “What happened to her?”

“She died when she was fifteen. I was only two years older than her, and I should have taken care of her better, but I guess I didn’t notice the signs until it was too late.” I shook my head, the tears already threatening to spill over even though the topic didn’t usually upset me. “She’d been getting bullied at school, and our parents didn’t think it was a big deal, but they never saw how much it hurt her.”

“She killed herself?” Spencer asked quietly, practically whispering so that no one overheard. I was grateful for it, because I didn’t want anyone seeing me break down. I nodded, and when he reached over to place a comforting hand on my shoulder, I couldn’t hold it in anymore; silent sobs wracked my body for the rest of the flight, only ceasing when Spencer quietly told me we’d need to get up to leave soon. He hadn't left my side the whole time, and I was grateful, despite the fact that he hadn't needed to stay with me, especially since we were still at odds. I knew that this one instance wouldn't change everything between us, but it felt like a start. And if a fixed friendship with Spencer came with this sort of loving support, despite how much of a burden I’d placed on him, then it would be worth it. 


	3. Chapter 3

He talked me into finding a therapist, after we’d “made up” a couple weeks ago on the jet. I had confided in him once or twice since, and one afternoon while we were sitting at our desks sifting through stacks of paperwork, he suggested I see a professional if I thought it could help. I agreed, though the thought of doing so made me nervous, and he made sure to keep reassuring me throughout the week leading up to the first appointment. Outwardly, we still seemed like coworkers at odds with one another - we worked well together in a professional setting, as we always have, but when we had a moment to ourselves, I found comfort in his presence, and I slowly opened up to him. We weren’t the best of friends, yet, but it was progress. I still shied away from him when I felt I was being overwhelming, and he still made me nervous even though I felt more comfortable around him. The romantic feelings I had for him didn’t dwindle, but for now, they were on the back burner.

And despite the fact that just talking to him made it easier for me to open up and discuss the less-than-ideal aspects of my life, his suggestion of therapy had been a good one. Talking to Spencer did help, but I didn’t want to burden him with all of my problems. The bigger and nastier issues I saved for my now weekly appointments with a kind woman who had an office just a few blocks from my apartment. But even so, he seemed more than willing to listen when I needed to talk, and even asked me how my first appointment went when I showed up to work the next morning. And it was helping, truly. I felt lighter, less weighed down, and happier than I’d ever been since the accident. Dr. Rachel Mills was a great woman (though she insisted I call her by her first name - she didn’t believe in being uptight and overly professional with her clients) and I actually found myself looking forward to my second appointment. The first time I met her, last week, she allowed me to talk about myself and my job for a while before we got into anything too detailed in the second half. It was a refreshing change, compared to therapists I had in the past, who always insisted on diving into my trauma right off the bat. But Rachel and I discussed our personal lives and our families for a little bit before she finally asked what had brought me there. Talking about the accident with anyone but my team was awkward at first, but opening up to her was easier than I expected, once I got over my initial nervousness.

Today felt no different from my last few visits when I walked into her office, greeted by the secretary, before I met Rachel in one of the comfortable rooms near the back of the small building. It started off pretty well - she asked me how my week had been, if work had been any more difficult, just the basics before we started in on the heavy stuff once more. It was a good session, right up until I made a mistake and slipped up, mentioning Spencer by name. Fifteen minutes remained until our scheduled hour was over, but she insisted on digging deeper within that time.

“So,” Rachel said. “Tell me about him. You said he’s a coworker of yours?”

“Yeah, he’s another profiler on my team, but we haven’t exactly gotten along great in the past.”

“And why is that?”

“Well,” I said. “I’m not really sure. Before the accident, we hardly even spoke unless our work required it, but afterwards I think something just sort of changed.”

“Uh huh…” she said, writing something in her notes while she listened. “What changed?”

“He was constantly worrying over me, more so than the rest of the team, and to be honest it was a bit much. Emily - another one of my coworkers - said I was just overthinking things, and I think she was probably right, now that I think of it.” I confessed. Emily had felt overbearing at the time, but looking back, she was right to say it. “I think I was just so desperate to have him treat me as anything other than a coworker, that I felt overwhelmed when all he did was worry, and it just made me feel like I wasn’t really getting anywhere with him.”

“So you’re involved romantically?”

“Oh, god no. I don’t think he’ll ever see me that way, no matter how much I wish he would.”

“Well, it sounds to me like he may be interested, at the very least. I wouldn't hold out too much hope, but from what you’ve told me, he clearly does care. It’s just about determining how, exactly.”

“Are you saying I should ask him about it? That’s pretty daunting, and I’m never that straightforward with anyone, especially if I’m interested in them.”

“Give it a try, if you’re comfortable with it. Let it come up naturally in conversation so you don’t force anything, but going out of your comfort zone just a little will help you connect with others more easily, if that’s still something you’re concerned about.”

“I guess it wouldn't hurt to try, at least. But I’m not going to confess, or anything. That’s just too much right now.”

“Of course, I understand. Well, it seems like our time is up. I’ll see you next week?”

“Unless something comes up at work, but I’ll call you if that happens.” I told her, standing up. “It was good to talk to you again, I really feel like this was a good choice for me.” She smiled at that, and walked me out to the reception area.

“See you next week, Rach!” I called as I went out the door into the warm afternoon air. I felt like a weight had been lifted off my shoulders after that session, but Rachel’s suggestion made me anxious, even though I hadn't even decided if I was going to talk to him about it or not. Just the thought of telling him anything about how I felt was terrifying, but I pushed that fear to the side, because I still had the entire evening left to enjoy, and didn’t want to spend it stressing over something that may not even happen. Usually, my Saturdays were spent at home doing whatever I pleased, but with a good chunk of my time taken out of the day for my appointments now, I figured it would be a waste to return home when I was already out and could find something more enjoyable to do.

Tonight though, Emily had invited me to join her, Penelope and JJ for a girls night at one of the local bars, and although immediately following a therapy session with a trip to the bar seemed like a bad idea in theory, I was excited to spend more time with my team members outside of work. And despite the last few minutes of the session feeling more awkward than it usually was, I had no desire to drown my sorrows with alcohol tonight - I was just looking forward to an evening out with my friends, and it felt like the perfect way to end the day. I met them around six, sliding into the round booth they had chosen and sitting next to Emily, who greeted me with as much of a hug as she could manage while sitting. JJ and Penelope sat on the other side of her, both sipping at drinks that were already half gone.

“So, I went ahead and ordered a couple shots for you and I,” Emily said, sliding two full shot glasses across the table to me. 

“Oh, thank god.” I said, picking up the one closest to me and tipping it back, swallowing it in one quick go. I grimaced at the taste.  _ Tequila.  _

“How’d your appointment go?” JJ asked, taking a drink from her glass as Emily downed a shot right after me.

“Less than ideal, I’d say. She asked about Spencer this time, and it was a lot more awkward than our sessions usually are.”

“Didn’t think that was something you’d willingly talk about,” Emily remarked.

“Definitely not. I just slipped up and said something about him, and she wouldn't let me drop the subject.” I shrugged and reached over to steal a few of her fries. “It wasn’t as bad of a conversation as I expected, but she thinks I should do something about how I feel.”

“She’s right, you know,” JJ piped up from the other side of Emily. 

Penelope frantically nodded her head, agreeing with JJ. “You two would be so great together, you should ask him out!”

“Absolutely not. I can’t risk anything ruining what little friendship I have with him. I  _ am _ going to do something about it, but that something will be taking as many shots as necessary until I black out so I don’t have to think about it,” I said, and quickly downed my second shot of tequila. JJ and Penelope seemed content with their mixed drinks (which, admittedly, looked pretty damn good actually - I stole a sip of JJ’s drink when she wasn’t looking and found I was right), but Emily and I made it our mission to outdrink each other, and the empty shot glasses piled up as the night went on. I made sure to drink water in between, but that didn’t stop me from getting absolutely plastered less than two hours into our evening. 

Dinner hadn't been a priority, and I was in no mood for a full meal tonight, so the four of us had shared a variety of appetizers and desserts with each other. But with a stomach full of way too much liquor and a plethora of greasy food, the night took a turn for the worse, and I ended up in one of the bathrooms, slumped over the toilet and feeling like death. JJ was there with me, holding back my hair and comforting me as I emptied the contents of my stomach. 

“Where’d Em and Penny go?” I slurred out, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand.

“Penelope got Em a cab home because she’s drunker than you are, and then I think she went home as well. Are you okay to stand?”

I nodded and held my hand out in JJ’s general direction so she could pull me up off the floor. I followed her on unsteady legs, gripping onto her arm for support the whole way back to our table so we could gather our things. She let go of me for a moment to put on her coat and grab her purse.

“Do you need me to call you a cab?”

I shook my head. “It’s only two… no three, uh… it’s just a few blocks to my apartment. I can walk.” I insisted.

“Are you sure?” she asked. When I nodded, she said. “Okay, but I’ll walk with you just to make sure you get there safe.”

“Aw, thanks Jayj, I love you,” I said, locking my arm with hers as we walked out into the cool night air. 

“Oh yeah? Surely not as much as you love Spencer though, am I right?”

“I don’t  _ love _ him,” I protested, muttering under my breath.

“Uh huh, sure you don’t.” She laughed. “You know, for a profiler, you’re not great at lying.”

I stuck my tongue out at her, and almost tripped over my own feet. “I’ll have you know I am  _ great _ at lying. I’m just drunk right now.”

“So you admit you’re lying, huh? C’mon Y/N, anyone with eyes can see that you care for him.”

“Is it really that obvious?” I asked, and when she nodded, I said, “but he doesn’t know, right? JJ please tell me I haven’t been making a fool of myself all this time.”

“Hey, don’t worry about it. I’m sure he would have said something about if he knew.”   


“You know, that doesn’t make me feel any better.” I told her. She gave me an apologetic smile, but it didn’t do much to quell the unease I felt in my stomach. I couldn’t tell if it was just from my nerves, or the alcohol. 

“Doesn’t really matter anyway, though,” I sighed, reaching into the side of my coat and pulling out the half-empty drink Garcia had left on the table. “I’m not so sure he’d feel the same - we’re just too different.”

“Y/N! Did you steal that from the bar?”

“No. Maybe? Yeah, okay. I did.” I admitted, taking a drink from the cup. “But it’s not like they’ll miss it! We already paid for the drink and I wasn’t gonna let it go to waste.”

“Okay, I’ll let it slide this time. But no more drinking tonight, okay? You better get some sleep, because I know you need it.”

“Yes,  _ mom,  _ I’ll be good, I promise.”

“Good. Now get some rest, alright? I’ll see you Monday.”

“Night, JJ.” She waved goodbye before stepping over to the curb to call herself a cab, and I unlocked the door to my apartment, stepping inside and feeling grateful for the quiet. But it wasn’t quiet, not really - it felt like my mind was shouting at me, screaming all manner of thoughts at me as I struggled to block them out. JJ’s words from early, no matter how comforting she meant them to be, did nothing to calm me down. Spencer wasn’t clueless - in fact, he was far more observant than most of us on the team, so it was hard to believe that he never noticed my feelings for him. Especially now that I knew that most of the team had figured it out as well.

The empty cup I had stolen from the bar was cast aside on my coffee table, and I practically collapsed onto the couch with no regard for the dull pain that came with smashing my face directly into the less-than-soft cushion. There could be only one explanation for all of it, really. Spencer  _ had _ to know how I felt about him, and that meant that he didn’t feel the same - because really, who would go out of their way to ignore someone they knew had feelings for them? The least he could offer me was an apology for not feeling the same, and then we’d go our separate ways, my heart broken and his intact all the same.

I had made up my mind. I’d tell him how I felt, just to get it over with, and then maybe there would still be something of a friendship left over to salvage, afterwards. Because he deserved to know the truth, even if the thought of admitting it absolutely terrified me. I just hoped that my confession wouldn't jeopardize our friendship.

I knew that he’d most likely be asleep by now - it was nearing midnight already, and that helped alleviate some of my fear. If he was asleep, I could leave him a voicemail and get it over with. Having a one on one conversation terrified me, and I prayed that he wouldn't pick up the phone as I dialed his number. It rang once, twice, and a third time before I sighed in relief. He always answered by the third ring, and knowing that I wouldn't have to speak to him directly cleared away the last of my nervousness. Or at least that was what I told myself, but I could still feel my heart beating rapidly as the phone continued to ring. And ring. And he didn’t answer. The phone beeped, and I took a deep breath before leaving my message.

“H-Hi, Spence. It’s me. Y/N, from work. But I uh, guess you could probably already tell, right?” I paused to take a steadying breath before I kept talking.

“I know it’s late and this probably isn’t the best time to be doing this, but hey, I’m drunk and impulsive right now so really, there’s no better time, yeah? Anyway, I just wanted to say that I love you. That I’m  _ in _ love with you, and I have been pretty much since I joined the team.  _ God _ , does it feel good to finally get that out. JJ said you probably hadn't noticed, but everyone else did, so it’s not likely that I’ve kept it very secret. I really hope she was wrong and that this doesn’t come as a surprise to you, because that would make things so much more awkward.”

I took another shaky breath, and I knew that at this point there was no calming myself down. I could already feel the tears threatening to spill over.

“Because I know you don’t feel the same, and that’s fine. I’m fine, totally. I just needed to get this all out there, because there’s no other way to move on unless I admit to myself that it was a far fetched idea to ever believe in, in the first place. I held out hope for way too long, and I want to get over it. I just need to hear it from you, now, so that there’s no way I can convince myself that there’s still some semblance of a chance for there to be  _ something  _ between us.” I sniffled and tried to wipe away the snot dripping down my face, but only succeeded in smearing it everywhere else. 

“But anyway. It’s late, and I know you’re probably sleeping, but I just need to know that this won’t change things between us. You’re still my friend, and I don’t want how I feel to make that any more complicated than it already is. And I… I’d really appreciate it if you could just say it before we have to see each other again, because I don’t think I could bear it if I heard it coming from you in person. Just- just call me tomorrow. I won’t answer, I’ll just let it go to voicemail so I don’t have to say anything back to you, but I really do need to hear you say it, Spence. I need to know that you don’t love me so I can get on with my life and stop feeling sorry for myself, alright?”

My finger hovered over the  _ end call _ button, but it felt wrong to end my message with so many things unsaid. Even so, I didn’t know what I  _ could _ say. Already I’d said more than I intended to, and any more confessions would leave me feeling too embarrassed to face him at work. 

“Night, Spence. I’ll see you on Monday.” I said, and promptly shut my phone off. I’d finally gotten it over with, but I didn’t feel relieved. I felt terrified, still, because he had yet to listen to the message - it was done on my part, but my confession wouldn't be heard until morning, and my stomach felt even more uneasy at the thought of him listening to it as soon as he woke up. But what was done was done, and I couldn’t take it back. All I could do now was wait, and hope that I don’t wake up hungover. Still in the clothes I’d worn all day and uncomfortably draped over the couch, I let my exhaustion take over and fell into a dreamless sleep.

* * *

I woke the next morning with an awful taste in my mouth and a pounding headache. I rolled over onto my side and groaned at the sudden unease in my stomach, but thankfully it wasn’t bad enough that it made me want to throw up. I picked up my phone and pressed the home button, expecting it to light up and greet me with my wallpaper, which showcase myself and the girls in a photo we’d taken a couple months ago, but the screen remained black.  _ Damn.  _ The battery must have died sometime during the night because I’d forgotten to plug it in before I fell asleep. I stood up, ignoring the pit in my stomach, and made my way into the kitchen. The clock on my stove read 11:46, and I knew I’d slept in far longer than I would have cared to. I plugged my phone in and left it on the counter to charge while I got to work preparing myself a cup of coffee and toast - an easy meal that was sure to settle my stomach. 

It took only a short while for my phone to turn back on, during which I happily sat at the counter eating my breakfast, with no regard for what was to come - because now, the events from the night before were hazier than I would have liked, and the realization that I’d confessed my love for Spencer hadn't yet set in. My phone buzzed on the counter beside me, signaling that it had charged enough to turn back on, and I reached over to pick it up. Garcia’s face smiled back at me, the rest of us concealed behind the slew of notifications that took up my screen. Four missed calls and a plethora of texts from earlier in the morning - most of them from Spencer. 

_ “Oh, fuck.” _

I slammed the phone back onto the counter, face down so I wouldn't have to see the messages. It was far too early to deal with this, even if it was almost noon. I need coffee, first, and then my anxiety medication before I could even think about listening to what he had to say in response. My heart felt like it was beating right out of my chest, and the feeling of panic swept over me before I could even fully register what was happening. I stood up from my seat, grabbing my coffee tightly in my hands before making my way back to the couch on shaking legs. Panic attacks were never easy to get through, but as long as I had a safe place where I could be comfortable while riding it out, I’d be fine. Eventually.

Ten minutes passed, then twenty, and I was still frozen in place on the couch, curled up into myself in an attempt to make this pass quicker. My coffee was long forgotten, left on the side table and most likely cold by now, but I couldn’t bring myself to care. I was glad that Spencer had at least granted my wish and responded today, because if I’d broken down like this at work, in front of the team (and Spencer himself, no less) I would have been mortified. I always tried my best to keep my emotions in check around the team, and letting any of them see me in such a vulnerable state would surely just make things much worse. 

The pain in my chest faded after a while, though my heart was still beating wildly and the sense of unease had yet to go away, I felt much better. And even though the panic was over, my tears kept flowing, but for that I was grateful - because it meant that the usual void of feeling I was left with after a panic attack was now filled with the ache of sadness, knowing that what I most feared had been true all along. But it was better than feeling nothing at all, I suppose. And then there was a knock at the door. And another. I stayed still, hoping that whoever was on the other side would go away if I didn’t answer the door, but whoever it was still persisted. I sighed and stood up, wiping my face and hoping that I didn’t look too much of a mess. I unlocked the door and prepared myself for whatever was on the other side - preferably JJ or Garcia coming to check up on me after last night. 

Instead, I was greeted by the sight of Spencer standing outside my door, looking shocked. My breath hitched in my throat, and for a moment I considered slamming the door in his face. I couldn’t do this again, not for a second time this morning. But then I thought about this rationally, and realized that he must have a good reason for being here, and shutting him out now just might be the thing to break whatever was left between us.

“Did you mean it?” He asked, and for a second, I could have sworn he sounded troubled, with the way his voice shook.

“What?” I said, sounding very un-intelligent. 

“What you said in your voicemail last night.” He clarified, stepping inside and closer to me. “Did you mean it?”

I nodded, not trusting my voice anymore. Even if I was sure that I wouldn't fumble over my words or my voice wouldn't crack, I didn’t even know what to say now. I felt trapped, backed into a corner with no way out, and–

My train of thought was cut off when I felt his hand - surprisingly soft, and gentler than I’d ever expected - reach up and cup my face. My mind was racing too fast for me to process any of the thoughts, and my brain all but short-circuited when he kissed me. Now, my mind was blank - unable to fully process what was happening. And despite that, despite the fact that I wasn’t responding like I wanted to and that should have made the moment severely underwhelming, I was rendered useless by how  _ right _ it felt. He pulled away after a few moments when I didn’t reciprocate, looking worried and confused.

“I’m sorry, did I… Did I read the situation wrong?”

“No,  _ god no,  _ Spence. Fuck, I’m sorry, I just…” I paused, searching for the right words. “I didn’t know how to react, is all. Today’s been stressful, to say the least. And I didn’t really expect you to show up.”

“I wasn’t sure if you got my messages,” He admitted.

“My phone died while I was asleep, but after that I was too afraid to read any of them. I thought you’d hate me after what I said.”

“Hate you? Y/N, why on earth would I ever hate you?”

“You never really made it clear that you  _ didn’t _ entirely hate me. Hell, for the first few months after I joined the team I did think you hated me, just because you seemed to hate being in the same room with me. I thought I’d done something to piss you off.”

He laughed at that, but I got the feeling that it wasn’t something humorous to him.

“And for that, I am truly sorry. I didn’t mean for it to come across like that, and I wasn’t ignoring you on purpose, I promise.”

“But you  _ were _ ignoring me.”

“Yeah, I was.” He admitted. ”Relationships aren't my strong suit, and I’m even worse at dealing with my own feelings. I pushed you away because I was afraid of what those feelings could mean, and I never should have done that.  _ You didn’t deserve that, Y/N. _ ”

“I guess I should have said something sooner, then.” I joked.

“I wouldn't have forced you into admitting anything until you were comfortable with it. You clearly had a reason to wait this long, and I respected that.”

That was the last straw, for me - all this time I’d been the one holding out because he’d been too polite to initiate anything, and  _ god _ , did that make me love him even more. Never had I experienced the sheer amount of respect he was showing me, and knowing now that he felt the same, I didn’t hesitate to respond this time when he kissed me.

It was tender, less awkward than the first time, and I found myself melting into him as his hands came to rest on my waist. It was desperate - more needy and careless than the chaste kiss we’d shared just moments before, and my own hands made their way to the soft curls at the nape of his neck. It felt intoxicating, to say the least, and I couldn’t get enough of him, but after a few moments I had to break away just to catch my breath. Our foreheads were pressed together as we stood there, staring at one another.

“So… what does this mean for us?” I asked after a few awkward moments of silence.

“It’s whatever you want it to be, Y/N. I trust you to set the pace here, and I won’t force you into anything before you’re ready.”

“I love you,” I told him.

“I know.” He said with a small smile on his face. And god, did I love this man. He was everything I knew I deserved, and knowing that he cared enough to put aside his own desires to make sure I was comfortable almost brought me to tears. I finally had something good in my life, and I was determined to never let him go. I wrapped my arms fully around his neck, pulling him closer and burying my face in his chest. I didn’t say anything for a while, happy to just stand there in his arms, but he eventually pulled away to look at me, a soft expression on his face. 

“You alright?” He asked, reaching up to sweep a strand of hair out of my face.

“Mhm, all good.” I replied, and took his other hand in mine. “Really great, actually. Better than I’ve been in a long time.”

Things were more than good - perfect, almost, save for the agonizingly long time it took for us to get to this point, but I was content to stay just as we were for as long as I needed, because after all, we had almost forever to make up for lost time.


End file.
